Inside the store, Declan trails Nadia, holding the shirts and dresses she wants to try on as she pulls from the racks. The store is empty this early in the morning and Nadia takes her time looking at each table and stand for something to wear.

     "You make every occasion a shopping spree," he says to her as they walk towards the changing rooms.

     Nadia rolls her eyes. "I'm sorry I care about my appearance." Then she adds under her breath, "Actually, I'm not sorry." She's been doing this thing where she doesn't apologize for things she doesn't absolutely mean, or what men don't have to apologize for. He doesn't blame her. Now that she's pointed it out, all he can see is how often women apologize for the most menial things.

     "It's not like there's going to be anybody to impress tonight."

     She tilts her head upwards and smiles wistfully at him. "Who knows, maybe my knight in shining armor will be at the party."

     Declan pauses, and makes a botched attempt at not sounding annoyed when he responds, "Didn't realize you were looking for a knight in shining armor."

     She shrugs as she films through a rack of bralettes. Declan wants to tell her to forget about it, because he knows they aren't going to fit, and knows she knows it, too. She does this time and again; she'll try them on and the lace won't cover everything or give her the lift she wants. Then she'll go on and on about breast reduction surgery.

     If he really thought she wanted it, the surgery, he'd be fully supportive but he doesn't think so. She just wants to wear pretty lacy things, sometimes. Which he gets, kind of, not really. It's a girl thing he imagines.

     "I've done two years of the hook up thing. The casual, never see you again, what's your name? Netflix and chill thing. I want...something that's worth something, I guess." She turns to Declan, looking inquisitive and so open like she's just admitted a secret she's been hiding for a while. "You know?"

     He wonders when she decided she wanted something serious, because all she ever talks about is being single, and hot hook ups and how she needs to "do her"  — whatever that means.

     "Yeah," he says quietly. "I know." Because he does. He really does. Eventually you get tired of waking up alone when you didn't go to bed that way. Eventually you start wanting the things you believe everyone deserves.

     "You're not going to run into anybody you don't know tonight. Shelby's parties are never that big," Declan finds himself saying, anxious and unnerved by the fact Nadia wants to date someone. He manages, somehow, to endure all of her hook ups because sex is just physical need and outlet. But he's not really sure he can, almost one hundred percent positive he can't, handle her falling in love with someone. Someone that isn't him, he guesses.

     "I don't know, maybe my knight in shining armor is someone I know." She shrugs and holds up a bra to her chest. "Do you think this will fit?"

     He gives a stiff shake of his head, not ready to move on from the subject. "Well, who are you thinking?"

     "Hm?"

     "Who out of our friends would you date?"

     "I don't know, Dec," she says, exasperated. "I'm just saying that I'm being open to the idea of dating. Maybe I find prince charming tonight, maybe I don't. It's just a possibility. I have all summer to figure it out."

     He hears her, he does, but all he can think is me me me me. I'm the someone you know and should date. I'm your Prince Charming, your Knight in Shining Armor. Even though you don't need one, you do fine on your own, it's me.

     "Alright, I'm gonna try these on," she says excitedly, grabbing at the pile of clothes in his hands before darting towards the changing rooms.

     He resigns himself to the fact they will probably be in the store all morning and picks a bench to sit at while he waits. He's in the middle of an intense game of Angry Birds when Nadia makes a noise, a sharp gasp followed by a drawn out, "Shit."

     Declan stands up slowly, shoving his phone into the back pocket of his chinos as he does. "You good, Nad?" he asks as he walks up to her door.

     Nadia gives a high-pitched laugh, sort of distressed in nature. "Can you come here for a second?"

     "I'm outside the door," he answers, rubbing at the side of his head in confusion. "If you're going to ask my opinion on something it is always and indefinitely going to be no, it doesn't make you look fat and yes, I like it."

     "That's not – uh, look I need your help. Come inside." The door handle clicks but Declan remains staring at it, dubiously. There really isn't anything Declan wouldn't do for Nadia, but joining her in this dressing room cuts it pretty damn close.

     He sighs, pushing at the door to create just enough room to slip inside. Nadia's standing facing him, with a stringy shirt caught around her neck and torso, one arm in its rightful place while the other is caught in one of the holes, which he doesn't suspect is the right one judging by the way it appears to be choking her.

     "I think my hair is caught, and I greatly misjudged the stretch of this material. And it's cutting off my circulation. So help. Please," she says as she stares at him. Declan swallows and tries not to notice the underside of her breast peaking out. He kind of wants to laugh, but it unnerves him seeing her this exposed.

     "You want me to uh," he pauses, swallows, and continues, "to uh, help you take it off?"

     "Yeah, I can't do it on my own and I'm starting to sweat and I think I might've forgotten to put on deodorant. This situation is quickly moving to dire."

     "You don't have on anything under that, though." He needs a cigarette. He needs five. Maybe a valium. Some yoga. Because he is freaking the fuck out.

     "Yeah so?" Nadia raises both her eyebrows with emphasis.

     "That doesn't bother you?" he asks shifting unsurely.

     "You have an app on your phone that tracks my period. You seeing my breasts is hardly a big deal." She pauses. "Unless it bothers you?"

     He says, trying to sound convincing, "No, no, I'm fine."

     "Okay then," she says her tone suggesting she doesn't fully believe him. "Help me before I suffocate and die."

     He says hesitantly, "What do you want me to do?"

     "I need you to help pull it over my head without ripping it. It's like a $40 top and I'm not paying for something that doesn't even fit so."

     Declan nods, reaching out to tug her hair from the neckline first. He does it slowly, keenly aware of his fingers as they move through her dark locks and graze the back of her neck.

     He is no stranger to this kind of touching. He'd helped her (attempt to) dye it a few years ago. And there was that time when she had an ear infection, too, and he'd had to wash her hair in the sink for a week.

     Nadia instructs, "Okay, I'm going to start pulling my arm out and you lift, slowly."

     Declan pinches the fabric near the neckline, and starts to lift focusing his gaze above Nadia's head as the shirt gives way to skin. Nadia has to shimmy to get her shoulder through but once she does it comes off easily.

     Declan's whole body is hot and feels like a vessel he's invading. He really needs a smoke. "Good?" he asks Nadia as she stares up at him, and he avoids her gaze. He forgets most of the time how short she is but he is fixated on it now.

     "Yeah, thanks," she says softly.

     "No problem," he says.

     "So," she says drawing the word out. "You're just not going to look at me?" She reaches towards him, going for his chin maybe, he isn't sure.

     He stops her though, catching her hand and holding it at a distance. She takes a step back moving into perspective, and he is staring straight at her and trying not to die because she is beautiful. Her Memorial Day Weekend tan lines contrast against the rich tone of her already dark skin. There's a mole that he's never seen before, too low on her breast to ever be displayed in her shirts, and he's committed it to memory.

     "I'm being respectful," he says as he averts his gaze.

     Looking at her is dangerous and tantalizing, like most of the vices he is hooked on, and, like most of his vices, once is not enough.

     He's back to staring and noticing things he probably shouldn't. Things that are going to keep him awake at night, and burn in the front of his mind. He meets her gaze and watches the muscles in her jaw work as she clenches it. Was this sexual tension, he wondered, and if it was, did she feel it, too?

     "It's not," she says finally like she's reading his mind. Of course she doesn't feel that way about him. "It's not like they're bad." She's hesitant when she says this like she isn't sure if she believes it.

     Declan shakes his head, finds his sense, and maneuvers backwards for the door. "I'm going – I'll be outside."

     Nadia's suddenly grinning with teeth that took four years of braces and a headset in seventh grade to straighten. "Wait, Declan, come on." He's out of there so fast, his feet move without any conscious thought.

     Outside it's suffocatingly warm. The stress sweat that had accumulated in the crooks of his elbows and back of his neck turns to real sweat. Declan ignores the sweltering heat, focusing on the mechanics of smoking.

     Declan's phone rings after his second cigarette. He knows its Nadia before he pulls it out of his pocket, but answers regardless.

     She says, "Can you please come back up here I need your opinion on another top."

     "Like I said," he answers. "My response is always going to be the same."

     "Declan!" He knows she isn't angry like she's pretending to be.

     "Nadia," he mimics.

     She sighs. "Are we going to talk about what just happened?"

     "What just happened?"

     "You didn't say anything."

     "What did you want me to say?"

     "I don't know, 'you have a very nice rack, Nadia, thank you for letting me see it' maybe?"

     "You have a very nice rack, Nadia, thank you for letting me see it."

     "I hate you. Ugh, whatever, tell me the other thing."

     "No, you don't look fat. Yes, I like it."

     Laughing, she says, "Okay. I'm going to buy this. Meet me at the register."